Clouds of mist hung over the sea, and although lanterns were held aloft,
nothing was visible.
The search was in vain. No one ever knew precisely what had happened,
nor would know. Whether a sudden giddiness seized him, or whether he
leaned too far forward, misled by the fog which makes things look so
different; certain it is that he had disappeared--not even his umbrella
was found.
No one slept that night; a great awe had settled down over the whole
ship.
The next day a furious gale sprang up. Captain Wylie, who was an old
sailor, crawled up on deck; he was used to roughing it, and the waves
dashing over him as they swept the deck had an invigorating effect.
"We ought to be in this afternoon," shouted the captain, as he passed,
"but the propeller has come to grief; you see we are not moving, and
hard enough it will be to fix the other in in such weather," and he
looked anxiously around. The wind almost blew his words away.
Captain Wylie then perceived that they were in the trough of the sea,
helplessly tossed about, while the waves were mounting high, and any
moment the engine fires might be extinguished. Should that happen,
indeed they would be in a bad strait.
With difficulty he made his way to where the men were vainly trying to
fix the monster screw. Each time they thought they had it in place, the
heavy sea shifted it, and the men were knocked down in their attempts.
Pages:
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430